


Art at dawn

by DhampirGirl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Fluffy, M/M, Stucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DhampirGirl/pseuds/DhampirGirl
Summary: Bucky Barnes still suffers from the bad memories of the time he served in the Army, but now has his boyfriend, Steve Rogers, to help him calm down, even if it means having his bionic arm being painted.





	Art at dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Hi people!  
> So, I'm just a Brazilian who loves her kids too much, Bucky and Steve, who decided to write a story about them involving only love. No big dramas.  
>  In addition, the disclaimer is:  
> \- The characters are not my own. The rights of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are reserved to Joe Simon and Jack Kirby;  
> \- However, the plot is a creation of mine. Plagiarism is not allowed - The same is even crime;  
> \- Fanfic also posted on Nyah! Fanfiction, Wattpad and Spirit (But in Portuguese);  
> \- Good reading!

The simple touch of the brush on the bionic arm was comforting to Bucky to the point that his once chaotic thoughts calmed down by the hours the painting was going on. Incidentally, Marvin Gaye's playlist playing in the room not only appealed to his soul as an old man, but it also aided in the task of silencing the mind.

Closing his eyes was a decision he made at the beginning of the session so that all his senses would be intensified, especially that of the touch on the metal member, however, when he heard the "Jeez" - Not "Fuck" or "Shit" because he had to be careful with his mouth - coming from the thick voice so familiar to himself, he opened them to face the scene of the boyfriend facing a stain of light blue paint dirty the carpet in the room.

"You made a mess there, eh?" Bucky smiled, playing with the situation. Silence in response worried him, "Hey, it's okay. We can clean it up later."

His partner lifted his head slightly and Barnes was struck for the thousandth time by the magnitude of being stared at by those blue eyes under the most incredibly long lashes ever seen. There was little left for one day to be killed by the sweetness and beauty of this man.

"I'm sorry." Okay. The shy pull of rosy lips in a smile served to finish killing him.

Fuck, Steven Grant Rogers.

Better known as just Steve or Punk for Bucky, he had been her boyfriend for ten months from the day the two, wrapped in a mess of blankets, lazy cuddles and cautious whispers, entered the topic of which name to give their relationship that already had experienced varying levels of intimacy and decided to consider themselves in a quiet, non-charged dating, just as their entire relationship worked.

The two met in a clichéd way: they entered the same circle of friends, they gravitated to Brooklyn, exchanged cell numbers, and when they realized they were discussing who would pay the bill on the sixth meeting. However, the context of that date was not exactly every day.

After a year locked in the apartment, going out just to buy groceries, make monthly visits to Stark Industries, go to his, he says, stupid telephonist job in a pet shop in the morning and find his therapist, that was the first day in that Barnes felt good to go out with his colleagues, Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff.

The reasons for his imprisonment were all the result of the time served by the army in Afghanistan. Three tours, immense traumas, nightmares that often made him stay awake for 24 hours and the loss of his left arm. At first, he acknowledged that he should be at least a little happy because he could have been killed by that vehicle explosion and also because he was lucky enough to be a guinea pig for a Tony Stark project to create bionic limbs, the which were connected to the brain and of extreme functionality, but nothing prevented him from falling into a bitter depression.

The noises made by his new arm as he moved seemed to torture his mind, every noise of NY traffic entering the apartment reminded him of the desperate braking that the pilot of the car he was in when the grenade was thrown near them and his sleep summed up the scenes of dead people, shootings and the sight of himself burned on the part of the body. Bucky was by no means well in the first few months of his return to town.

However, therapy has helped him slowly overcome past traces, giving him the courage to pick up the phone to call his childhood friends and set off at the bar near his building. Frankly, he felt tempted to uncheck it when he was warned about someone else's presence, but today he recognizes that the best thing done in his life was to have his hair stuck in a bun, dressed in his best outfit, promised himself in the mirror would try and finally go.<

Steve in his khaki trousers, sweaters that almost tore at his bare chest, subjects about art, charcoal or paint under his fingernails often, blond hair neat, nose thin and slightly crooked to one side, blue eyes, long eyelashes, shyness that could never overlap his gigantic courage and good heart, was a breath of fresh air. He became his greatest confidante, knowing since when he had exchanged the contents of his sister Rebecca's acetone for water, and she spent hours trying to remove the nail polish up to the universe with all her theories of emergence, planets, stars, and vision his over his head was his escape valve during the army.

Rogers listened to him, spent nights on the terrace of the building watching the night with him, supported him at every consultation at Stark Industries, treated his arm normally, which was different compared to other people, loved him even though he was often a bad-tempered jerk and supported him whenever there was a crisis, just as happened the night of the date they were.

Although it was a little more unusual, Bucky persisted in having nightmares and a few panic attacks here and there, but now he had a boyfriend to hug him, to say that everything was fine and to pull him into the living room of their apartment with the speaking of what they would do a work of art - The moment of silence and appreciation did him good - soon after that not only his breathing, but also mind were already under better control.

This time, the design chosen by Steve was the universe in all its grandeur and, to Barnes's astonishment, the screen was his bionic arm. Normally, they only put a calm song and he would sit on the couch to be painted by his partner. 

"I told you it's okay, punk.You just spend a little time cleaning up your mess, you know, you do not really do much," Bucky said, holding his right hand to his chin as a representation of what he was reflecting on.

"Jerk, stop insulting my cleansing skills, otherwise you're going to have an incomplete Earth and I'm going to leave," Steve said, then returned the brush to the blue paint and finished his drawing.

Unable to close his eyes again, Barnes stared at his boyfriend, who sometimes allowed himself to place the tip of his tongue between his lips unconsciously so much concentration on the task. His heart was overflowing with love at that moment and he knew he would have an attack if he did not voice it.

With his free hand, he touched Steve's cheek, ran his thumb over the ink stain there, and lifted his partner's head. Smiling was automatic as he made a lovely face of confusion for the interruption.

"I love you."

"I love you too." Rogers lifted his trunk a bit so that he was up to his boyfriend, gave him a saddle, and returned to his position, laughing softly. "I took your cheek in ink."

Bucky brought his palm to the area and noticed that there was indeed a blue spot there when his fingers turned dirty, but he did not care at all. The paint would come out easily with a shower, what really mattered was to have those lips over yours again. Maybe even the body.

And that's what he sought: He took the brush from his partner's hand, pulled his face close to him, kissed it languidly, and seized the moment to roll over the bodies so he could sit on the man's lap.

Finally, Bucky, Steve, and the carpet were dirty with paint.

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you think? I hope you enjoyed!  
>  Incidentally, I'm sorry if the text has any spelling mistakes. Sometimes Google Translate is not the best option at all. I'll do what?  
>  A kiss,  
>  DhampirGirl


End file.
